


Get Up!

by Wolfcry22



Series: Shame [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Dean Winchester, Dead Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Drunk John Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester Bashing, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester Being an Idiot, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: One argument too many breaks Sam in a way that Dean never expected, especially when Sam one day says, “He hates me.” (Based off a scene from the TV show Shameless)
Series: Shame [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883236
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	Get Up!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second short story that I’ve written with Supernatural characters based off of a scene from Shameless. I believe this happens in season 1 episode 1 in Shameless where Fiona is talking to Ian about Frank. It’s been a bit since I’ve seen that episode so I may be mistaken. Anyway, I saw some more parallels between the two shows and thought that I would take advantage of it once more. You certainly don’t have to watch Shameless to read and enjoy this story. It could possibly fit into the timeline either way.
> 
> Heavy John bashing in this story too. It’s AU as well since I can’t see Dean acting this way. Although, if pushed enough perhaps. It takes place a few months before Sam leaves for Stanford. 
> 
> Warning for brief strong language, implied/referenced alcoholism, neglect, and abuse. This is just John being an asshole (again) and Dean becoming frustrated about it since it isn’t the first time. But, he’s trying to put on a brave face for Sam as he often tries to do. Sometimes it just boils over.

Dean drifted awake to the sound of thundering snoring that could be heard throughout the measly apartment that their father had rented for a month. There was an entire nest of vamps that needed to be hunted and John Winchester wasn’t going to take anything to chance, which meant long days of research and talking to victims, before dragging himself to the bar to choke down so much liquid courage that it finally began to numb the intrusive thoughts of loss and grief from his mind. It was a ongoing pattern that wasn’t about to be broken anytime soon.

Reluctantly, Dean threw the covers off of himself and sat up. His back twinged with the effort, shooting startling pain down both legs and radiating through taunt lumbar muscles. The last hunt he had been able to tag along to had resulted in a vengeful spirit hurtling through a brick wall. Upon impact Dean had felt something pull and it had been enough that his father had abandoned the hunt for the time being to help carry his eldest to the safety of the Impala. That had been a month ago and Dean was still struggling through it.

He rose up from the bed and quickly noticed that he was not only alone in his bed, but alone in his room as well. This apartment may have been larger than most of the motels that they stayed in with a kitchen and living room—that didn’t mean that any Winchester received their own room. The only bedroom offered two queen beds, which meant that Sam and Dean had to share while John took the other. Neither brother minded and it certainly wasn’t the first time they were expected to share space like that. In fact, it brought a peace of mind for Dean just knowing that his little brother was close and that made him easier to protect. Still, it brought a sickening feeling of worry sloshing through Dean’s stomach as though he was standing on a boat in the middle of a raging sea. It was almost 3 in the morning. Where could Sam be?

Dean headed out of the bedroom and down the short hallway, mindful of avoiding the long strip of plywood in the center of the hall that always creaked when he stepped on it.

He headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, wrinkling his nose at the stench that rose up from a suspicious looking container that looked like it may have held something of the protein variety and what appeared to have been mashed potatoes at one time. Ignoring the food options, Dean opted to grab a Coke, unscrewing the cap before he could even pull it from the fridge.

Dean brought the cool liquid to his lips, hiccuping when the carbonation hit his empty stomach. He had decided against eating the night before in favor of using the last of their depleted funds to get Sam something to eat. His little brother had eaten the sandwich without complaint, wolfing the meal down in a few quick bites. Dean’s mouth had watered while he looked on, knowing that his brother needed the food more than he did. That didn’t stop his stomach from growling noisily. Dean prayed that the drink would take the edge off the worst of the hunger pains at least until morning.

He started back down the hall when a small glow of light pulled his attention into the living room. He crept forward in the darkness, leaning against the wall, fingers splayed in an attempt to find the light switch. The flattened, smooth surface of the switch bumped against his knuckle, Dean leaning into it to force the lights on.

The light connected to the fan sputtered on, tinging the space below it in a white hue. There Dean was able to see his little brother sitting on the end of the long couch still in his jeans and t-shirt from earlier.

“Sammy?”

Sam looked up as though he had been caught. Hazel eyes widened in alarm, breath quickening until he realized who had called his name. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Dean forced a note of hurt into his voice. “Your awesome big brother? Yeah, I wouldn’t say it’s ‘just me’.” His eyes glowed in amusement when he saw the corner of Sam’s mouth twitch upward.

Sam laughed lightly, rolling a thin strip of paper into a ball. “Sorry. I just meant not an intruder.”

“You think that an intruder would slip past me?” He continued forward until his foot struck something solid. Leaping back, Dean drew in a shaky breath as he surveyed the body in front of him.

The light shone on the man’s face, highlighting a black eye and bruised jaw. A raised scar stretched across his forehead from the last hunt and seemed to have grown infected due to John’s insistence that Dean not waste supplies on him. He was still dressed in his jacket and jeans from earlier when he had left for the bar. The scent of booze and desperation assaulted Dean’s nostrils when he leaned over. A strange stain stretched from his chest down to his stomach. Dean guessed it was vomit, but it could’ve been any number of other things.

“How long has he been back?” Dean straightened, fingers scratching absentmindedly at his bicep through the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

Sam shrugged, throwing the little paper ball he had just rolled toward the man. It bounced off his forehead, rolling to the floor, yet the man didn’t react other than a slight change in snoring. “Couple hours maybe. He asked where you were.” Sam glanced down as he picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “Told him you had a headache. He came in here and passed out a little while after.”

Dean came over and kneeled beside his brother. He rolled his ring over the top of the Coke bottle before tapping the end against his brother’s knee. “Thanks for that, kiddo, but I could’ve handled him.”

Sam gave a small smile from under his shaggy hair. “I know you could. Just thought that I would take care of you for once.”

A rush of warmth for his brother flowed through Dean. It wasn’t often that they had these heart-to-heart moments with Sam without one of them cracking a joke. Sometimes though, they were needed just to process the fucked up shit that their father had done and continued to do to them. They did fine when they were by themselves, but the moment that John returned, things went up in flames.

“Want some?” Dean swirled the bottle around, dark brown liquid inside sloshing against the sides.

Sam licked his lips as he imagined guzzling down the last of the sweetened Coke. However, he was aware that he had been the only one to eat dinner in his father’s absence. Dean deserved this Coke without having to share it with his brother. With a wave of his hand, Sam drew back until his back touched the cushions. “I’m okay. You go ahead.”

Dean brought up the bottle to his lips and choked down the last little bit before setting it aside. Eyes lifting, Dean took in how much his little brother had grown. He no longer needed Dean to help him like he used to, but that didn’t mean that Dean was going to back off. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Sam on his watch. Unfortunately, Dean was realizing more and more of the likelihood of something happening directly because of their father.

“You were out late tonight. Care to tell me where you were?” 

Sam bit his top lip as he gave his head a vehement shake.

“Just tell me you didn’t go out and do anything stupid.”

Sam gave a wry smile. “No worries.” His attention drifted back to John when he gave a rasping snore. Sam took another ball of paper he had rolled up and threw it in his direction. It struck John’s forehead without John moving a muscle. “He hates me.”

Stunned, Dean recoiled, the wind knocked out of him as though he had just been in a fight with a shifter. Things had been more than a little strained between Sam and John as of late. The fact that Sam was eighteen was bringing with it an impending cloud of darkness that signaled Sam’s departure. It was no secret that he didn’t enjoy hunting nearly as much as his father and brother did. Dean had helped Sam come up with enough money to take AP classes and his SATs. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Sam wouldn’t be around forever and he couldn’t blame the kid. If he could stay away from John without his conscience eating him alive because of it, then he would, yet he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way that the world worked for Dean Winchester.

“You just look more like Mom than I do. You probably scare him,” he chided softly. There was no doubt that John saw many of Mary’s attributes in Sam. He was kind, compassionate, patient, and gentle. Those were all things that both John and Dean mostly lacked. Dean surmised that it couldn’t be easy for John to see that everyday in his youngest and may exacerbate things when John thought about his youngest leaving. Who would protect Sam and his gentle nature when he was gone from their sides?

Sam perked up, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Dean nodded encouragingly. He saw his mother so much in his little brother; it was almost uncanny really. “Yeah.”

Sam grinned toward John. He flicking his head upward briskly. “He ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Did he give you money for the field trip?” Even though Sam was a senior, there was still one more field trip to Washington, DC. Sam hadn’t stopped talking about it since they arrived in this awful town. To Dean it didn’t sound like a big deal—actually it sounded awful listening to old men drone on about policies that Dean wasn’t about to follow anyway—but Sam was always into that brainiac stuff way more than he was. Damnit if Dean wasn’t going to do everything possible to help Sam get there. 

Unfortunately, the trip cost more than Dean would even like to think about. He wasn’t above stealing, but not as the first resort.

A look of forlorn passed over Sam’s features from the crinkle of his brow to the twitch of his upper lip. He quickly looked away from Dean, shoulders braced up toward his ears. “I’ll pay my own way, all right?”

Determination had Dean looking almost smug. “No you won’t.” He barely had time to process the confused look in Sam’s eyes as he rose to his feet, setting the Coke bottle down beside him. 

He strolled over toward their father and picked up his right left, lifting it high in the air. He shot Sam a wiry grin as he shook his father’s leg. The clinging of coins falling from John’s pocket and landing on the floor broke up the usual silence. Dean set John’s leg down gingerly, stooping down to pick up a handful of coins. It wasn’t exactly much, but it was all that Dean could take without their father becoming suspicious. He never paid in coins and usually left them for Dean anyway. The way Dean saw it, he was just taking what John would’ve given him anyway when he left on one of his hunts and left Dean in charge of Sam, even though Sam was accompanying them on more and more hunt as he had gotten older.

Sam laughed as Dean tiptoed back. Sam offered his cupped hands toward his brother for Dean to place the coins there. Dean lifted a finger to his lips once he finished, reminding Sam not to speak a word of this. If they were lucky John wouldn’t even remember it happened.

“You must get sick of always having to think for everyone,” Sam pointed out, turning on his side and dropping each coin into his pockets until they were almost bursting. 

Dean smirked back. “Well, at least I can.” Dean plopped down across from Sam again, left hand raised to scratch at his temple. “Proves I’m wanted.”

Dean was always the one that seemed to carry the most responsibility. He spent his time not only looking after Sam, but after John to. He made sure that whenever they were staying, things ran as smoothly as possible. Dean sometimes went on hunts with their father and then was still expected to go back to whatever hellhole they were staying in to care for his brother, make sure that he was safe and got his homework done, then was expected to do his own and get them to school the next day. Things had only started to become a little easier now that he was no longer in school. It would make any normal person completely break under the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. Unfortunately, Dean didn’t have that luxury. He had to keep things straight not just for his sake, but for Sam’s as well.

“C’mon, Dean. If all you wanted is to be needed, then congratulations. You’ve got yourself a job for life with this joker.” Sam sailed another paper ball in their father’s direction. This one landed on his chest and didn’t roll off like the others.

The words of Dean’s younger sibling hung in the air like a dense fog, choking the life out of Dean without anyway for him to defend himself. There was so much truth in those sentences that Dean wasn’t even sure how to respond. The fact was that even as Dean fought to care for Sam as he always had, his brother may one day no longer need him. It seemed that their father began to need Dean more and more as he fell into the pit of despair he had been fighting since the moment that Mary died.

Stiffly, Sam rose to his feet, arms perched over his head in a luxurious stretch. “I have a calculus test tomorrow.” He glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall by the door. It read 3:47. “I’d better turn in.”

Sam hit Dean’s knee lightly as he passed with Dean giving a nod of understanding. Dean’s gaze followed Sam as he crept back into the darkness of the hallway, disappearing into their bedroom without another sound.

John’s snores pulled Dean’s attention back to him. Dean’s face crumpled in hostility, lip curling to fully show his distain. Brows creasing, hands clutched in tights fists, Dean forced himself to his feet and began to circle his father like a wolf prowling around their prey.

‘I should be in college right now,’ Dean thought bitterly. ‘Or at least maybe a technical school or something. Yet, here I am taking care of your sorry ass. You left me to take care of Sam all by myself. How fair was that?!’

Despite the thought swirling in Dean’s mind, he couldn’t find it in him to voice his transgressions. He had felt this way for so long that he had almost become numb to it. That didn’t mean it hurt any less when John let him and Sam down.

Dean towered over John, rage bubbling inside of him. “Hey, get up.” Dean struck a foot lightly against John’s side. The only response Dean received with a tiny grunt.

“Dad, get up.” The next time Dean kicked, it was much stronger. It would’ve ordinarily been enough to wake anyone; at least anyone that wasn’t drunk off their ass.

“Get up!”

Dean’s voice carried throughout their apartment. He was sure that if Sam was sleeping, the raised timbre of his voice would’ve jolted him from dreamworld. Yet, John didn’t even pause from his snoring. He was dead to the world as far as Dean could tell.

Dean raised a hand to the lower half of his face, choking back a frustrated sob. Winchester men didn’t cry, especially not over something as trivial as their father disappointing them for the millionth time. Dean was used to this. Sam was used to this. However, just because Dean expected and prepared for this, didn’t mean that it pissed him off any less.

Inch by inch, Dean crouched beside his father’s side. He reached out a hand and picked up John’s right hand by the wrist. He felt it bend as Dean waved his hand back and forth. Gently, Dean stretched out John’s arm until it was straight so that he could pat the hand against his own shoulder as if his father had ever grabbed Dean’s shoulder with his hand in an effort to convey pride or affection. 

“Good job, Dean. I don’t know how I could do this without you. Thanks for all your hard work.” Dean lowered John’s hand from his shoulder and wrapped his other hand around it. He could feel the nicks and callouses that made John’s hand the hand of an experienced hunter. There was power behind it, certainly enough to take people and supernatural beings down. Dean had seen firsthand how strong their father could be. That didn’t seem to matter, though, when Dean thought of what kind of father he was, apart from being a fierce hunter. 

“You’re welcome, Dad.” Dean set John’s hand back on his chest where he had first picked it up. He was tempted to drag John to the bedroom and try to manhandle his father into bed. Sleeping on the floor couldn’t be good for his back. However, it was late—or early depending on how you looked at it—and Dean didn’t have the motivation to do so. If John got himself drunk and passed out on the floor that was his fault not Dean’s.

Sighing heavily, Dean rose to his feet and waltzed over to the light switch and promptly flicked it down. Darkness bathed the living room and disguised John’s presence there.

Dean halted at the mouth of the hallway to steal one last glance over his shoulder at John. Shaking his head gravely, he headed back into the bedroom, eager to put this whole night behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn’t as heavy as my other Supernatural/Shameless story that I wrote, but it is just as emotional and powerful to write. Both scenes have their place and show the strain of a character caring for their younger siblings. I hope that you all enjoyed this and if you haven’t already, check out my story called Shameless that has about the same theme as this one does. Doing these manipulated story scenes are challenging and fun at the same time.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
